Lower Decks
by Eagle2
Summary: A young stoker aboard Titanic battles to keep her afloat as the icy water and his own fear continues to rise.
1. Questions

**Waldorf-Astoria Hotel**

**New York City, USA**

**April 20, 1912:**

"Do you swear the testimony you are about to give is the absolute truth as far as you are aware?" My raised right hand was shaking. I was only a bloody fireman, a grubby member of the Black Gang and now they put me in a roomful of American senators. My borrowed suit was stiff and uncomfortable.

"Yes sir," I replied and sat down in an empty chair at the long table crammed by senators and reporters. A camera flashbulb popped, making me jump. Cigarette smoke hung in the air like a gauzy curtain. I hadn't smoked any since _Titanic_ sank and my nerves screamed for relief.

The man across from me looked up from his papers and met my eyes, Senator William Smith of Michigan, chairman of this little inquisition. He'd grilled my surviving crewmates and passengers and now it was my turn. I ran a finger along the inside of my collar; I can count on one hand how many times I'd worn a suit.

"Would you please state your name and residence?" Smith asked.

"Henry Branson, from Southampton, England," I said, "may I please have a smoke?" A reporter sitting next to me offered his pack and I nodded gratefully, lighting up the slender tube. You'd think as a stoker I'd have my fill of smoke and ash. But after those last few days…

Smith looked at me for a moment. "How old are you, Mr. Branson?" I shifted uncomfortable in my chair. _Titanic_ was the lasting I wanted to talk about: the water pouring in Boiler Room 6; the bulkheads failing; our desperate race to the boat deck; I lived it over and over again in my nightmares.

"I-I'm 17, sir, Mr. Senator," I stammered. I was the youngest man in the engine compartment. All of the men in my family were engine men. My Papa is Second Engineer aboard _Olympic_. Both of my brothers and my uncle were firemen.

"Don't let the suits intimidate you, Mr. Branson, all we want from you is the truth. We need to know what exactly happened that night. Men like you are critical to understanding this. Did _Titanic_'s crew stay at their posts? What took place in the engine rooms? That sort of thing," Smith explained.

"Can we get this the hell over with?" I insisted, taking a long inhale of my cigarette. Smith smiled and looked down at his papers again. He leaned forward and folded his hands.

"Very well, let's start at the beginning," he said, "when did you first board the _Titanic_?" I leaned back in the green upholstered chair and blew a smoke cloud in the air. _Was it only last week_? It felt like a lifetime since I first saw that lovely ship standing proudly at her dock like the queen of the sea. How strong she had seemed.

"I boarded at Southampton," I said, "my first time across the Atlantic, you see. No more little tramp steamers for me, _Titanic_ was the big time. It was going to be smooth sailing…"

**10 Days Earlier**:

It all started in Southampton. _Titanic_ was the talk of the town. Every school kid knew her name and she was debated on every street corner and in every pub. With the damned coal strike going on it was almost impossible to find work, so this new super ship was like a magnet, attracting men from all over.

Standing on the pier, I couldn't help but feel impossibly tiny. She stretched into the air like a mountain. None of the little tramp steamers I served aboard matched her sheer size. She was easily twice as big as _Adriatic_, White Star's last 'big ship.' Now I was going aboard!

"You ready for this?" a gruff voice asked. I turned to Fred Barrett, the square-jawed Leading Fireman. His blue eyes gleamed brightly, betraying his own excitement. My father and Barrett had known each other from their days aboard _Baltic_. That's why Papa got me assigned to _Titanic_ despite my being only 17.

"Yes sir, Mr. Barrett," I replied with a nervous grin, "she's…she's big." Barrett clapped me hard on the shoulder, hefting his sea bag. I noticed the old burn scars on his arm. You can always tell a fireman from our pale skin and the burns on our arms and hands. That and we tended to smell like bonfires.

"Across the big pond, we're gonna be relying on you pretty hard," Barrett said, "you're a strong boy, Henry, you'll be all right." His eyes were serious but a grin ticked at his mouth.

Suddenly a wave of nerves attacked my guts. Once out at sea, _Titanic_ was on her own. I had to do my job perfectly or we'd be in serious trouble. No land for thousands of miles, surrounded by a crew of strangers. _You chose this life, you and nobody else_.

Barrett sensed my unease, "I told your Pop I'd look after you, if you need a hand just holler." I grabbed my own sea bag and followed Barrett up the crew gangway into the ship.

Reaching our quarters in the forecastle area of D-deck I was surprised by how clean and new everything was: the spotless white-enameled bulkheads, the decks so clean they actually squeaked when you walked on them. I grabbed a top bunk and began stowing my gear, what little I had.

"Who said you get top rack, boy?" A tall, muscular, bald man with hard brown eyes glared at me. In a fight, I figured he'd wedge me into the deck. The last thing I wanted was be weak, to be seen as 'The Kid.'

"I guess I did," I said calmly, hands at my sided but ready for a scrape. You didn't grow up on the Southampton streets without learning to handle yourself. The man loomed over me, invading my personal space.

"What if I grabbed you by your arms and legs and pitched you overboard?" he growled in a rough Irish brogue, "children got no place down here." Over his massive shoulders, I saw Barrett looking my way and shook my head. I had to handle this myself.

"Go right ahead." I'd been blooded in fistfights and wrestling matches in schoolyards and back alleys. I may not be too big but I was fast and strong. He'd win no doubt, but I'd do some damage first. The big man laughed.

"You got guts, coal monkey; McCreary's the name, James McCreary." We shook hands.

"I'm Henry Branson, take the top if you want," I said and he shook his head.

"Nah, I'm just shittin' you," he gave me a critical stare, "you're still a minnow, twenty pounds says you won't last the week. Running full ahead, lots of guys flat pass out." We both laughed.

"You're gonna owe me a drink when we reach New York!" I said just as Mr. Barrett stood in the middle of the room and clapped his hands to get our attention.

"First shift follow me," he ordered, "Captain Smith's given the order to depart, let's raise steam!" My heart pounding in excitement I followed him into number 6 boiler room. The room was enormous, rows of massive double-ended Scotch boilers the size of a house, with three hungry furnaces each. Like fiery dragons of lore.

"That's yours, Henry," Barrett said. My hands itched to get busy and bring _Titanic_'s powerful engines to life. Two, four-cylinder triple reciprocating steam engines to drive her outer propellers and a low-pressure steam turbine engine to drive the center propeller, same setup they had on _Olympic_. She could make 22.5 knots full out. _It all starts right here, with us_!

It was all hot, dirty, grimy and dangerous work but I could do it. No problem. Grabbing my shovel and rake I grinned at Barrett. "I'm ready, let's go."

He yanked open the furnace hatches and I threw in a shovelful of coal for each one. Flames leaped out at me and I felt the heat on my face. All around me I heard the clanking of shovels and the whoosh of flames, Titanic was slowly coming to life.

_Titanic_'s main engines vibrated the very bulkheads. High above, I could imagine the rich-up-the-ass millionaires waving goodbye as we edged away from the pier and made our way down the river. The greatest adventure of my life was about to begin.

.


	2. Sea Legs

On the afternoon of April 11, after stopping the previous night in Cherbourg, _Titanic_ made her last port of call in Queenstown, Ireland. After this stop all that lay ahead of us was ocean. My lunch break came as we lay at anchor so McCreary and I decided to take one last look at land.

"What if Barrett catches us?" I asked as we headed aft towards the number 4 funnel. Only three of the ship's funnels actually worked, the fourth was a dummy used for ventilation and make the passengers think our ship was even more impressive. You could actually climb up a tall ladder inside.

"For God sakes, come on," McCreary snorted. The funnel was big enough around to allow a locomotive to drive through it and I saw blue sky at the top. Emerging at the rim of the funnel I gasped in amazement.

"Bloody hell!" From way up here I stared down at the deck of _Titanic_, the people gathered at her railings to watch a pair of tenders bring out steerage passengers and mail. I looked to the town of Queenstown and Ireland's green hills sprawling to starboard, on our port, nothing but sparkling water.

"Last chance lad," McCreary said. I snapped out of my daze and turned to him.

"What for?"

"To jump ship and go home to mommy," he teased lighting up a cigarette. The big stoker took delight in bugging me every chance he got. I ignored him, knowing he was simply trying to get a reaction. But now…part of me actually considered his words. _Maybe I ought to get off here_. I was only 17 and going far from home, half a world away from everyone and everything I knew.

"Mama'd have my skin if did that," I quipped. The last tender pulled away from _Titanic_ and the bass of the ship's whistle sounded across Queenstown. It was time to leave so I started back down but McCreary still gazed at the town.

"Look, right on that hill," he said, "My Kate's waiting for me there." I blinked; this rough, loud man was actually married? _Wonders never cease_.

He looked at me and laughed, "Yep, and got two pups on the way. You married, Branson?"

"I'm only 17," I said. But there was Teresa Hawkins, my high school sweetheart, a beautiful, intelligent and witty girl. She promised to meet me at the pier in Southampton upon _Titanic_'s return. Marriage had never been mentioned but maybe one day…

"Get on with it 'fore you're too old," McCreary said. We both raced back to our stations just as Barrett walked by.

"How's the view, Henry?" I felt my stomach clench and I fumbled for an answer.

"What are you talking about-?"

Barrett grabbed me in a headlock. "I know all that goes on down here, Henry me boy. If you fall and break your scrawny neck, your Pop breaks_ mine_. Got it?" All I could do was nod and he released me.

I grabbed my shovel and opened the furnace hatch, shoveling in more coal. I could feel the engines roaring to life. We were underway again and there was no going back now. Barrett glanced at the engine indicator panels before turning to us.

"All right, let's stoke the brights out, we got full ahead! Put your backs into it!" Ramming my shovel deep into the pile of coal I took a load and tossed it into each of the three furnaces. Heat burned my face. Sweat rolled down my back. I pulled my bandana up over my mouth and nose.

"What do you do with a drunken sailor? What do you do with a drunken sailor, early in the morning?" a fireman began singing. Before long we all joined in the song, banging our shovels in time.

"Shave his belly with a rusty razor; shave his belly with a rusty razor, early in the morning!" Opening the door again, I ran my slice-bar across the grate four times, to break up ash and clinkers.

"Way hay and up she rises, way hay and up she rises early in the morning!" I shut the hatches again before cold air got inside; if you called 120 degrees cold.

"Put him in the Hole with the captain's daughter; put him in the Hole with the captain's daughter, early in the morning!" I tossed in a layer of coal for each furnace; spread the coal four inches over the grate so the air could come through.

"That's what you do with a drunken sailor, that's what you do with a drunken sailor, early in the morning!" It was going to be like that all the way across the big water. Four hours on, eight hours off. Already, I looked like a demon from hell, coated in black coal-soot and sweat, my face seared red from the fire.

For the next couple of days it was smooth sailing, the ocean flattened out into a glass-like calm with scarcely a ripple. The work never ended, shoveling and raking and shoveling again. It was so hot in the boiler room I usually worked in only my shorts and even then I sweated like a pig and ended each day black from head to toe.

But all things considered, we had gotten lucky on _Titanic_. She was a 'clean ship,' all brand-new and well oiled. It didn't get half as hot and grimy as it did on the last bolt-bucket I'd worked on.

We had fun too. A bunch of us joined a wild party in the Steerage quarters one night. Drinking a pint of stout and tapping my foot to the music, I forgot all my aches and pains from the boilers. It took all of by surprise when one young guy came in with this First Class lady. In her glittery dress and flame-red hair she looked like a queen among the peasants. _That bloke's so in over his head_, I thought.

By Sunday night we lit two more boilers and run up a speed of 22 knots. I shoveled coal as fast as I could. Glancing at the clock, it was past 11:30. My shift was almost over, I looked forward to a cool shower and finally bed.

"The coal monkey's still standing!" McCreary announced with a mocking smile. "I heard the Captain wants to run full speed tomorrow, we'll see then."

"I can taste that drink already," I shot back, "know any good bars in New York?"

"Oh bugger off Jim," Barrett said, "we only had to pick him up once today." He winked at me and I just rolled my eyes, wishing both of them would leave me alone. _Only a few more days, you can make it_.

"Mr. Barrett, what about the speed test?" I asked but Barrett was ignoring me, staring at a red warning light that all of a sudden winked on. The 'Stop' indicator also switched on. How odd.

"Shut the dampers!" Barrett hollered, "shut 'em down lads!" I immediately reached up and yanked a lever above my head, stopping the flow of steam from my boiler to the engines. _We're bloody stopping?_

Suddenly the entire ship lurched violently and I heard a loud grinding, scraping sound. As if we'd hit something. The engines surged like wounded monsters.

At that instant a jet of water blasted into the room. I was knocked right off my feet. The cold was like being dunked in a pitcher of ice. I couldn't breathe, couldn't see. Water filled my mouth, nose and ears.

A massive hand yanked me out of the water. It was already up to my waist and getting deeper every second. McCreary literally carried me like a fresh cod. I saw the terror in his face.

"They're closing the doors!" Barrett was screaming, "Move it lads!" The massive watertight doors were lowering into place, sealing the entire ship like a drum. McCreary tossed me through the opening just as the door banged shut behind us.

My heart raced a mile a minute and I wasn't even breathing. I looked around at my shocked comrades. Water sprayed into boiler room number 5 from a small crack above the deck.

Finally McCreary found his tongue, "Anybody want to tell me what in bloody hell _that_ was all about?" The only response we got was the engines grinding to a halt.


	3. Saving The Titanic

I stood trembling in boiler room number 5, soaked to the skin by freezing water. My heart pounded a mile a minute. One moment it's business as usual, the next run for your life! _We hit something_! _How do you hit something in the middle of a flat ocean_?

"Is everyone all right?" Barrett demanded. I shook my head. One man was digging himself out of a pile of coal and I gave him a hand.

"We're aground off Newfoundland!" one fireman insisted. McCreary rubbed a lump on his forehead. He calmly lit up a cigarette.

"Nah, we hit another ship," he said, "I was on _Republic_ when the same damn thing happened. Our rich kids ain't gonna like that." We all laughed at the idea of inconveniencing the nose-in-the-air millionaires who wined and dined off our slavery.

The water still sprayed into number boiler room 5 and my feet were going numb. Barrett talked to one of the engineers and rushed back over to us.

"We gotta pull the fires in 6, let's go!" Going back in there was the last thing I wanted to do. I can't even swim. But if ice-water came into contact with the fires inside those boilers, they'd explode like bombs.

Back in number 6 we splashed into water up to our hips. I grabbed a shovel and got to work, digging out the red-hot embers. Loud hissing sounds and clouds of smoke filled the room. Pretty soon I could barely see the guy next to me. One boiler was clear and I attacked another one.

"Clear those furnaces lads!" Barrett hollered, "put your bloody backs into it!" The water now reached above my belt. I hate the water, that's why I became a fireman instead of a sailor, to work in the dry safety of an engine room.

I looked up to see a man in a suit watching us from the escape ladder. Mr. Andrews, the _Titanic_'s designer. He had been through the engine decks several times over the past week. A few days earlier Barrett introduced me to him.

Andrews had smiled warmly and shaken my grimy hand without hesitation, "You're doing a fine job, Henry; any problems so far?"

"No sir, she's a beautiful lass," I replied. The man genuinely cared about us and our working conditions. My father had always spoken well of Thomas Andrews and now I saw why.

But now as Andrews stared at the rushing water, his eyes were haunted and grim. He looked like a man who had just been told he had a fatal disease. It made my stomach shrink to a cold, hard stone. _This ain't good, not good at all_.

_Titanic_'s designer climbed out of the room and I exchanged a look with McCreary who shook his head slowly. I just wished somebody would tell us what the bloody hell was going on.

I emptied my tenth boiler, the water at my chest when word finally came to clear out. I sprang up the ladder just behind McCreary, up over and down into boiler room 5. We lit up cigarettes and I felt my heart rate slow to normal. Barrett came in and all eyes turned to him.

"Lads, listen up," he called, "word is we struck an iceberg, she's taking water in three forward holds and boiler room 6." I exchanged shocked looks with the guys. _But this tin tub can't sink_!

"How'd they hit an iceberg?" McCreary demanded, "are those idiots blind?" Barrett shrugged. My father had only ever seen one iceberg, at a distance on the horizon, one more than I'd seen.

"The sad truth is, we are badly damaged and we're sending CQD-" Barrett went on but I cut him off.

"So we're sinking?" Mr. Barrett stared at me and slowly nodded. My stomach got hot and tight all over again.

"Captain Smith needs steam for the lights and the Marconi wireless. The longer we keep her power on the more lives can be saved. So let's get to work. God willing, another ship'll arrive before too long," Barrett explained and glanced at McCreary puffing on his cigarette in disgust.

Going back to work on the room 5 boilers, I couldn't help but notice it was getting harder to keep my footing. The deck was tilting towards the bow. I heard a creaking rumble even over the hissing embers. Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to focus on the boilers. _Titanic_ was a big boat, she's take hours to sink.

"You ain't scared are you, coal monkey?" McCreary asked. I forced a smile, refusing to allow my mates to see my fear.

"No, I needed a bath anyway," I said and the big stoker laughed, patting me on the head.

"If it gets too deep I'll carry you on my shoulders." A round of chuckles followed. _We'll be okay, just keep at it._

The boilers were emptied one by one. I was so busy I jumped a mile when Barrett suddenly grabbed my arm. A loud screeching sound almost deafened me. "Clear out, the bulkhead's going! Clear out!"

The bulkhead of boiler room 6 was bulged out like paper, water spraying between the cracks. I grabbed the escape ladder. The bulkhead imploded with an ear-splitting crash, sending a wall of water cascading into the room. Terror froze me in place. I wanted to run but I couldn't move.

"Bloody move it, lad!" McCreary smacked me upside my head, snapping me out of my terror. I scampered up the ladder as fast as I could. We wound up in an empty corridor and I leaned against a bulkhead trying to catch my breath.

In my mind I kept seeing Teresa's face, her innocent smile as she waved goodbye to me on the Southampton quay. She was the kindest, sweetest girl I'd ever met, always with a kind word or a joke to lighten the day. _I'll never see her again_! I choked back a sob before the others saw me.

"We not getting out of here, are we?" I asked. Up top they were putting away lifeboats. Every minute meant one more boat gone. My chest felt like an elephant was sitting on it, I could hardly breathe. Barrett pulled me around a corner. "I don't wanna die, Mr. Barrett."

"Your Pop once brought a stoker on _Baltic,_ a boy your age. A damned hard worker; one trip we ran into a hurricane. It was bad, waves 50 feet high. The ship pitched and rolled so hard we thought the boilers would tear loose. I never saw a more frightened kid in my life-" I grabbed my stomach.

"This ain't helping!" Barrett silenced me with a stern look.

"Shut up and let me finish. That kid was scared shitless. But he kept looking to your old man, whenever he needed strength. And he got it. He stayed at his post and we made it out. Nobody expected to see that boy again but next trip there he was."

"Papa told me this before, that stoker was you," I smiled. Fred ruffled my hair and smirked.

"I know you're scared, Henry boy," he replied, looking into my eyes, "but I need you right now, the people on _Titanic_ need you. Just look at me if you need to, deal?" He held out a hand and we shook.

_Teresa would want me to do my job_, I reasoned. Together we descended back into boiler room number 4 and I manned the closest furnace, shoveling in coal. The lights kept flickering and going out. Beneath my feet, _Titanic_'s deck tilted until keeping my balance became a job in itself.

My stomach wrenched with every creak and groan. I looked at Barrett and he nodded, eyes hard and brave. _Come on Henry, be a bloody man for God's sake_!

"The Captain says _Carpathia_'s on her way," Barrett called, "_Olympic_'s coming hard too. It'll all be over soon." I traded a grin with my mates and I felt my stomach loosen up. _Papa's coming, everything will be okay_.

Good news didn't stop the next bulkhead from imploding and nearly drowning us again. Now boiler room 4 was a goner. Steadily we were being pushed back towards the main engine room. Pretty soon _Titanic _would lose her buoyancy. Chief Engineer Bell joined us in number 3. I'd rarely seen our Chief during the voyage. His face was tortured and grim.

"You men have done all you can," he said to us, "I'm cutting you loose. Take care of yourselves and pray for the rest of us." I stared at him. _Just like that? Just leave_? A panicked voice in my head kept screaming at me to bolt for the Boat Deck. But what about saving _Titanic_?

"Sir, we're not done!" Bell regarded me for a moment, mustache twitching.

"What's your name?" he demanded.

"Henry…Henry Branson, sir."

"Part of growing up is doing what your damn well told," Bell said, "you don't need to die down here. Now _go_! That's an order!" McCreary grabbed my collar and I stumbled in his wake to the escape ladder.

Climbing up deck after deck, we slipped and stumbled in the icy water. The ship was tilting badly. I prayed with all my might that we'd make it outside before she sank. We had to smash a gate to reach First Class and finally topside.

I shoved open a door and swore. The freezing air was a like a slap in the face after the heat of the boilers. My soaked tank top and shorts made me shiver like an abandoned newborn. Crowds of lifejacket-clad passengers raced up and down the deck, bumping and jostling us. A distress rocket exploded high in the sky.

"Now what?" I demanded. Only two lifeboats remained on the port side and mobs of people crowded each one, shoving, pushing and shouting at the officers.

"I don't know 'bout you blokes, but I need a drink," McCreary declared. The burly man gave me a firm pat on the back. "You're a bloody good lad, Henry. I'll sail with you any day." With that he vanished into the panicking crowds. I never saw him again.

The rest of us made for the nearest boat. The Second Officer was in charge, bloke named Lightoller. Two shots from his revolver ripped through the night air. "Keep order here or I'll shoot you all like dogs! Keep order, I say!"

"Sir, we want to help!" Barrett shouted. The slightly-built officer nodded and waved us forward.

"Can you men row?" I shrugged, how hard could it be really? "Right then, man this lifeboat." I could already feel my limbs stiffening up as I clambered into that tiny boat. We lowered away at once.

As we rowed away from the sinking ship, my jaw fell open. _Titanic_'s entire bow section was under water. Row after row of bright, shining deck lights splashed across the ocean like a fairy-tale cathedral; my mates, keeping the power on.

But she didn't last long. As we sat in that puny little boat, the greatest ship in the world slid away into a watery doom. Moments later she was gone, leaving only a fleet of lifeboats and a few hundred freezing people.


	4. Heroes & Survivors

**New York City, USA**

**April 20, 1912:**

The room was silent for a long moment after I finished my story. Only the scratching of pencils on notepads or a random cough was to be heard. Looking at my pocket watch I was shocked to see only an hour gone by, it felt like a month or more.

"One hell of a thing," declared Senator Smith, "you are a genuine hero in my book." I blinked, puffing on my last cigarette. All I wanted to do right now was cry like a bloody baby. Every night I heard the screams of those poor souls dying in the water, knowing my mates were among them.

"Why?" I snapped, "because I did my bloomin' job? The real heroes never came out of that hellhole engine room. I'm just a survivor. And if I'm such a damned hero, why did White Star cut my pay the moment she went down?" The words shot off my tongue with more venom than I intended. It wasn't the senator's fault. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bitch."

Smith nodded and shook my hand, "They won't be forgotten, Mr. Branson, I promise you that. You're free to go."

I threw open the door and found Barrett waiting for me. He shook his head at the sight of me. "Want to get a drink? You look like you need one," that made me think of McCreary and a lump rose in my throat. Fred put a strong hand on my shoulder and we walked outside together.

Later, we sat in a busy bar drinking cold beers. As I drank, I half-expected to hear 'hey, coal monkey!' and look up to see Jim McCreary, Mr. Andrews , Chief Bell and the others standing in the doorway. _It's not fair, any of it_.

"So, what do we do now?" I asked finally. Last night I sent a telegram to my folks and Teresa, letting them know I was alive and not to worry. _If I could just hug Teresa, everything would be okay._

"Go home, go back to work," Barrett said. I stared at him.

"After what just happened?"

"You want to eat, don't you?" He said and took a sip. The guy was right of course. Part of me seriously considered getting a job as a coal miner on shore, but that'd be running away. I'm not a runner.

Barrett held up his glass, "To _Titanic_, a lovely lass who went before her time." We clinked our glasses and drank. Another lump filled my throat, I swallowed hard.

"And to absent friends," I croaked, emptying my glass and filling it back up again. _I'll never forget them, not as long as I live, all of the heroes from the lower decks_.


End file.
